Beyond Your Shape
by LeMaskadra
Summary: Whatever you are... I love all of you... A collection of oneshots featuring a various array of strange objects.
1. The Lamp

A huge thanks to galfridus for beta-ing this work !

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It is one of those beautiful, ancient things, unique and ageless that you'd find in the antique shops among old oak tables and crackled paintings. It comprises an hourglass-shaped, carved ceramic foot, polished with age and countless touches, a cache cupping the edison light bulb visible through the sheer veil, delicate and fine as lacework; a simple, yet elegant lamp.

Meliodas fell in love with her the very moment she plugged him next to her bed.

Every time Elizabeth- turns him _off_ , he tries not to think too hard about the way he _knows_ that she's laying just there on that bed, a few centimeters away from where he is standing in the dark, and sighing deeply in her sleep, sometimes mumbling soft mindless, incoherent things.

Sometimes she leaves the switch _on_ , though, and does not go to sleep immediately.

She rests on her back, all but naked on the mattress and writhing in the sheets as her breathing grows stronger, faster, he can _feel_ it deep inside him, just as her fingers wander down to cup her breast and roll the heavy flesh in her palm. He doesn't know what to think of this, it's- _unusual_ , but he knows that this happens every now and then. It is perhaps once or twice a week that Elizabeth takes a bit longer than usual to fall asleep, and plays with her body instead.

It _does_ make him sweat, unusually so, as condensation droplets start pearling around his ceramic where the electricity has been running a bit faster than usual in the cables, hot against cold atmosphere...

Her other hand snakes down to, without further preamble, slip under her white, _white_ panties, running over her soft silver furs and even lower where she is hot and wet and aching. Her finger seems to twist under the fabric, sliding between her folds, nudging them apart, and then slipping into her wet core with a sharp intake of breath.

The worst parts of it all are the _sounds_ she makes, and Meliodas, from his spot on the bedside table, can only see the side of her body, her voluptuous shape, her tongue licking her plump lips, and for a crazy second wishes that he could trail the fabric of his veil on her sensitive flesh.

He can see the motions of her hands hastening, as her thumb toys with her clit in round, steady circles, pressing down and teasing. Her back arches with a high-pitched moan, and the hand kneading her breast comes to the side of her head, on _his_ side, clutching the sheets with unhidden tension.

Slowly her hand kneads the mattress and crawls involuntarily toward the bedside table where the lamp rests, and her fingers hit the switch, turning Meliodas _off_. A drop of condensation splashes against the wood.

"Shit!" Irritated, she fumbles in the sheets before turning him _on_ again, and resumes her caresses.

Her movements are now hurried and frantic with the aching need to release, and as she caresses her body she plays with the lamp. Her index finger pokes at the switch repeatedly, almost pressing on it, but not _quite_ , just so that the electricity in his cables wavers a bit... As her movements quicken he wonders why she is doing this - touching him - at such a moment, then decides he really could not care less. He feels his own delight as his light flickers in time with her fingers pumping in and out of her sex. She rocks steadily against the bed, and would notice that his lightbulb is more bright than usual if not for the fact that she was already busy.

She's close, so _close_ to the peak, her two fingers slipping inside her wet cunt, her thumb playing and rubbing harder and hurriedly on that one spot that makes her moans turning into tiny, high-pitched _screams_ \- her finger pokes harder at the switch, pulls on the cable lightly, the light is at its brightest, wavering a bit like the flame of a candle…

At once she twists, and her back _bows_ against the mattress with a loud, open scream, her pleasure evident and audible, and the lightbulb is powered to an impossible capacity until it _shatters_.

She is left panting in the dark room, and does not see the way the bulb holder has burnt a bit on the side, only smells the faintest scent of smoke... Although it doesn't worry her. This lamp is old after all, although she has had to change the lightbulb quite frequently these past few weeks.


	2. The Oyster

A huge thanks to galfridus for beta-ing this work !

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His shell glimmers in the sunlight as the sea retreats for a while, and he lets his gills out for some good, fresh air. The distant roll of the waves and the warmth of the sunlight over his shell are soothing, habitual things in his peaceful life, glued to that rock.

 _Clap, clap._ He gives a few more snaps on the hinges holding the smooth pearly texture on the inside of his shells, held by glistening pink muscle.

God, that rock is wonderful. Always so strong and standing against the crashing waves. Like the cliff against the storm, it protects him. For some reason, he thinks that _it_ is a _she._ He doesn't know why or what could tell him so, but her mossy softness, her voluptuous curves... her rock-hard body. He shivers in delight, gills wriggling gloriously outside, taking in the saline breeze and the warmth of the sun.

His name is Meliodas. He is the first heir of a long dynasty of oysters, the ones with the toughest shells, the strongest glue. For millennia they have defended their territory among these rocks, but _she_ is only his. He is known for his ruthlessness, his unyielding force as he keeps and keeps his hold on her, and not one dares to dethrone him from this rock. And every year he rewards her with a remarkable, lustrous white pearl, one of those that shine as bright as the sun. As bright as his love for her.

It takes him eleven months to craft it. He has nursed that small bit of sand inside him, polished it until it grew in his heart and shone... It takes his most valiant efforts not to let it _go,_ as again and again they try to claim it, to claim him... He holds onto her for dear life, never letting go.

And his pearl is the biggest, the brightest in the oyster realm. He has opened his conch just a bit every cycle of the month, to let it bath in the moonlight through the slit as it has taken in the starlight that makes its pristine white glow that only Meliodas knows how to craft. The finest pearl, for the finest rock.

And on the tick of midnight of the new year... _clap, clap,_ he delivers his masterpiece. He opens just for her and lets his pearl roll on her hard ridges, until it reaches the nest of other pearls in the middle. Each time bigger, each time brighter.

For centuries he has remained clasped to that rock, the lip of his shells now fitting seamlessly to her curves, the dip and the rise of hard stone. It feels like an intimate, full-bodied contact, almost a symbiosis, as he breathes life onto her, and as she gives him protection. She never fails him, not as time erodes others around them, as water dissolves limestone bit by bit, shard by shard. If not, her mosses are even more glorious and green as they were before, as he takes great care of them.

Meliodas would open up and then close his shell continuously in rhythm with the unchanging tide, taking in the fresh air, the brine and the sea, glimmering rose flesh churning inside those velvety beds of nacre.

They would build and build this together, this magnificent feeling and the joy of being alive and together with his rock. His shell progressively grows longer, harder, more coloured every time she sees him as the tide falls, although it is more evident towards the moon-lit end of the year.

Those very few hours during which the earth rotated, and the day shifted to another, new, different one, he remains open to see it with her. And she'd be with him, bearing his weight on stone, her mossy planes growing progressively wetter as slowly she releases the saline water she holds through her pores. And then, at the peak of the night, he offers his pearl.

Together they are deep, marine waters, the coast and the sand, and every living being thriving in the ocean. They breathe widely, his shell sucking on that rounded slope of her, and her dripping bright with waters, melting in the middle, briny and alive. The vivid colours reflected on that pearl, the massive, succulent oyster tense as the pearl detaches, all of it... breathtaking.


	3. The Snail

A raindrop fell heavily and threatened to splash in his eye, but Ban wasn't even shaken from his thoughts. He had been on a trail for hours, a thick path of slime that even the water won't erase, and a sweetness that made his mind spin. He glided inch over inch slowly, tediously following the faint pheromones left on the trail - he or she had reached maturity around three weeks ago, by the last pour of the rain, and had been searching for another mate after an unsuccessful attempt, apparently. The molecules told Ban everything he needed to know through his tentacles. The upper ones saw nothing but shadows, yet could smell and recognize that spice that was unique to every individual. The lower tentacles had the sense of taste for food and lovers; and Ban had a certain pride in thinking that he was a rather experimented one, in matters of recognizing the juiciest salads to gnaw upon, to the farmer's dismay, and also to decipher a potential partner from the scents surrounding him as far as a few yards away.

He may also have some pride in the fact that he was rather strong amongst his species - as not even pesticides or a stomp of a feet could kill him, save for a few scars left on his shell that attested of just how untamable he was. Some even called him an immortal, for his size reached that of the biggest shells, those that took months and months to craft, those that took the most valiant efforts to carry on his back day by day.

His tentacle caught a parcel where the scent was stronger; he shivered in delight, knowing he was about to meet him, or her, though Ban could already tell that he tended more to be a male, and that was just as fine by him. He himself had needed several weeks of switching from one side to the other, although now his size was more favorable to him being a male most of the time as well.

He glided round a flower pot... and stopped right there in astonishment, staring at the slope of a bright yellow shell, the continuous line that spun round and round indefinitely in its center, perfect and unscathed. His clear skin gleamed from the fall of water down his body, his delicate body forming into the prettiest tentacles he's ever seen, a small mouth chewing on the remnants of a fresh leaf. His eyes turned toward him one after the other, and then Ban knew that he would be the perfect mate.

His body twisted beautifully to entice him, and Ban was hooked instantly, magnetized. They glided toward each other, the distance separating them was painful as they were so slow, but Ban could tell that the other male was not even at his full speed, probably to make himself be desired even harder. Now Ban ached almost painfully to touch that sinuous body, to taste the slime off his skin, to scent that sweet spice that has been driving him for hours.

They collided in a wet smack of flesh, though all of it happened in a slow motion, for them it was as if it happened in less then a second. The rain had slowed to a soft mizzle, just enough to moisten their skins, barely enough to produce a sound - it was perfect. _Meliodas._ The name travelled through his upper tentacles and straight to his core, electrifying him, and he felt that familiar wave of heat, the spark of instinctual need to mate with him, to mix their seeds.

Meliodas parted his flesh to welcome him, and Ban's body molded to his perfectly, as if they were made to fit against each other. He was all muscle; Ban's insides clenched just at the feel of that long, wet and hard muscle gliding against his as their tentacles found each other again. Ban couldn't even begin to imagine how good it would feel to have the entire length of him fitting with his, twisting with him in their beautiful love dance with just the clouds and tomatoes as witnesses. They touched slowly, not in a rush, tentacles poking at each other, smelling and tasting - Ban's mind was spinning as fast as it had been hours before, when he was still on the thrill of following that trail, and now it was even more real than ever. Meliodas tasted as delicious as his pheromones had let him imagine, his saliva still had the green taste of freshly cut leaves, his sensitive little tentacles retracting from his touch as if he was overwhelmed - he had the right to be, from this being his first time meeting such a strong mate, from feeling the callous muscle of his body shift against his, the bare hint of intimidating strength accumulated in a body that had survived many, many hardships.

His redula - a cute little tongue fitting for a cute little mouth - scraped at him and Ban had the desire to kiss him right there. Their mouths glided over each other slowly, sensually as their bodies progressively pressed against each other, twisting and sliding easily as their self lubrication mixed in between. Ban could feel his smaller body tense with anticipation, every nerve ending set on fire making Meliodas almost tremble against him, weakened by his tentacles being overwhelmed with sensation, smell, pheromones. An intense chemical dialogue was occuring between them, a to and fro of sexual stimuli intended to awaken their glands and several other erogenous zones.

That did it - Meliodas shot his love dart right into his flesh, making Ban flinch at the sharp pain caused by an inexperienced move. After a while and a series of wet, apologetic kisses, the pain faded away only to be replaced with a throb in his core, making him shoot his dart in response. Of course, Ban aimed where the muscle was thicker, where he knew wouldn't wound him much - sex among their species wasn't always safe after all, but there was no reward if they didn't take the risk. It was part of their nature.

They were both hooked now, glued to each other in a way that was fusional, and ready to couple.

They worked as one, in synchrony as they extended their penis from their pockets, hardened, lengthened by desire for the other. The thrill made their movements clumsy and tentative - no matter how many times Ban had done it, it was always an incredible moment, filled with such emotion he was blinded for hours while it lasted.

It was a dance of slow penial caresses, tentacles poking and touching periodically to communicate things that could not be shown or felt, intense, mind dizzying sensations.

Meliodas stretched his body to expose his core, deliciously lubricated and fertile; his scent was stronger there, secreting the perfect cocktail of molecules to attract Ban's member by chemotaxis.

The contact was electric. Automatically, Meliodas's member was guided along Ban's, sliding against him until he found his entrance, tensing as he felt the fold of skin, the dip under it. On instinct, he arched to plaster himself onto Ban, a full bodied contact that made them sink into each other to the hilt.

In a sex-crazed haze, they lost their balance and rolled on their shells, still glued to each other as the grass caught their fall. The slime acted like a lock, the suction strong enough not the leave a single area of Meliodas's underside uncovered; gently Ban wrapped around him with all his length, pulling him efficiently into the most fusional, deepest hold he's ever experienced.

They barely had the mind to do anything else but lay there, wrapped around each other. Their mouths glided over every spot of gleaming skin they could find, their tentacles joining their brains into thinking as one. The penetration was deep, powerful; no other sensation could surpass the feel of being touched all over at once, inside and out, the delicious burn of the stretch pushing their bodies to their limit.

The sun reached the horizon behind the clouds, the sky darkened, the soft pepper of the rain kissing every inch of shell and skin exposed to the night. Thunder crashed; in a violent effort, Ban finally squeezed the smaller body with his own, making him release his seed. Meliodas spasmed as the orgasm crashed onto him like the rolling waves of the sea in the middle of a storm; potent, overwhelming, untamable. Ban contracted and released longly inside of him, enjoying both the giving and the receiving, the familiar numbness setting in his muscles from the intensity of the act. Both delirious from the pleasure of their coupling, they remained tangled for a while until Ban released him; Meliodas laid limp onto his shell, having momentarily forgotten how to be himself again after they parted.

Yet the scent came back. Unique and sweet, one Ban would never forget and as they rolled back onto their feet, he knew that eventually one day, Meliodas would find his trail as well.


	4. The Turkey

I would like to thank Exxentricc for beta reading this work :)

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Meliodas shivers as he lays bare on the counter and with his limbs arranged neatly against his sides, he waits patiently. The tiles are cold against him, and the steady sound of a blade being sharpened along with the wash of cold air on his bare body is gives him goosebumps, his pale skin rippling delicately with chills.

He comes from a place that is dark, and cold, a place of endless cruel ice where nothing could live or breathe, not even the others of his kind which were kept in their separate plastic packagings. They would probably be staring at him in horror, if they still had their heads. Before that… there has been the endless planes of luscious green grass, the rich smell of the earth after rainfall, the distant neighing of a horse. Meliodas has been known to be the best worm seeker of the entire coop. He used to be quick, ruthless as he pulled out the best worms from the earth, the freshest, the juiciest.

And although he had the most beautiful hens cackling around him, Meliodas has never found love. He used to stare distantly at the horizon, for long hours from dawn to dusk, wondering what it was like to dedicate oneself entirely to another being.

He hadn't known what to expect back then, as he was taken away to a new environment, a gorgeous light and a smell that had almost made him salivate, if only he hadn't lost his head before being packaged like the others. Since then, he has let his sixth sense guide him.

Now all he knows is that in this moment he has met _her._ Her gentle smile, and something like _hunger_ in her touch, he has fallen head over heels for her.

Meliodas is attentive as a certain "Sir Ban" mentions that everything depends on the _stuffing_. Elizabeth, that was her name, takes notes rigorously until Sir Ban deems her capable to take care of the next course of actions on her own.

The young girl reunites the few key seasonings he has mentioned: poultry seasoning, salt and black pepper. Sir Ban has said that the turkey will also get flavor from the butter and the vegetables, but that for the most part, all that savory flavor will come from the turkey's juice itself. Meliodas can only agree with that.

Silver hair whips as she whirls around in the kitchen, dancing as she collects everything she needs for the stuffing, from the dry bread to the butter and not forgetting the celery. She arranges the vegetables and the tools neatly next to him, and then starts with the onions.

The entire time his attention is on her, and only her.

Her dainty hands tug hard on the skin, which makes a heartbreaking sound as she peels it layer by layer. A lone tear bright like a diamond falls from the corner of her eye and Meliodas wishes he could wipe it from her beautiful face with the edge of his wing. No hard feelings, she pushes the peels to the side and then goes for the large knife, sharp and deadly in her hold, and catches the onion with one hand as she starts cutting into it with the other.

More tears fall, and their splash on the counter are like the droplets of rain that used to fall in the meadow Meliodas used to thrive in back in the olden days.

A light sniffle pulls him back to reality as she throws the thin onion slices into the frying pan, casually wiping her damp cheeks before adding the chopped celery and then she moves on to mince the parsley and then crack the bread into crumbs. By the time she has seasoned the sauté that is making sizzling sounds from the pan, a delicious smell fills the kitchen, making Meliodas's mind spin and all his senses come alert, eagerly waiting for more of that girl.

The mixture is baked and ready, so Elizabeth turns to him, her blue eyes raking along the curves of his bare body with a sense of predation. Meliodas tenses up, preparing for - for something, he doesn't know what - but the delicate hands that reach out for him are warm and soft, the kind that makes him immediately melt in her hold with an imperceptible shudder. Elizabeth stops all motion, eyes wide. It was like _something_ had connected her to the turkey. She sighs warmly and coos.

"Oh, you're lovely."

She then proceeds to rinse him with clear water, gently massaging his rigid limbs until he's all nice and relaxed. The touch feels intimate, her little hands rubbing at the flesh and prying at his limbs before she dries him with the kindest gestures. "You are going to be so delicious," she muses.

Meliodas feels his body warm up, his core left slick from the little splashes of water, and perhaps where Elizabeth had been too shy to wipe a paper towel. However he realizes that isn't the case when the girl grabs his ankles and spreads his legs wide apart to expose the most intimate part of his body.

"Ohh…" She blushes, but doesn't shy away from him as he laid there, vulnerable and shivering. It takes a moment but eventually, she nudges a finger at his entrance with curiosity, biting her lip in the most exquisite way. "Ah… You're so… delicate here…" Her digit tugs at the sensitive fold of skin gently, spreading him carefully. She can't help the little throbs she feels between her own legs from doing this. "Yes," she breathes, rubbing her thighs together. "You're ready now…" Just as she was.

Meliodas is palpitating, hypersensitive and aware that he is now all greased up and loose, he can't wait to be filled with her.

Elizabeth knows that she should be using a spoon, but she feels that she can pour more of her love into preparing this meal if she uses her own hands. Trembling with anticipation, she reaches for a small portion of the mixture and then timidly pushes it inside the turkey. Her toes curl, and by the second she has her left hand fumbling in her panties to rub her clitoris. "Hmm."

Sighing with slow ecstasy, she grabs a handful the next time and shoves her whole fist between Meliodas's legs. The turkey's ribcage inflates, inhaling deeply due to her intrusion, and then flattens again when her hand retreats from his body, leaving behind a small bump of her delicious stuffing inside. He is almost delirious from the pleasure at this point, but it's not until she brings a few more handfuls filling him with more of her that he reaches peak pleasure.

Her entire hand pushes in and out of his core but she is not bringing anymore of the mixture as she doesn't want to overwhelm him. Her thrusts are getting rougher as she aims precisely for each spot that makes pleasure spark along his spine, spreading him wide and making sure every corner of his cavity is full with vegetables and crumbs of bread.

"Ahh… You look… So good…" She pants, fucking him with her hand in time with the presses of her thumb on her aching clitoris.

A trail of saliva descends her chin but all Meliodas thinks about is the way she is downright fisting him like a goddess and at the same time getting pleasure from it. This is the girl he's always wanted, the girl of his dreams.

Her hands speed up frantically to pump in his core and circle her little nub until the tension get almost painful, her breathing is as erratic as Meliodas's heartbeat is, bringing the both of them close to that delicious edge where the cord is taut and ready to snap. Her fingers curl inside of him and Meliodas loses all restraint, his thighs slap the metallic dish and his little wings break free, spreading wide as if taking into flight. She cries out as her own core slickens her fingers, her walls fluttering in a way she has never felt before, especially while cooking.

It takes Meliodas a moment to remember his name, and to realize that he's also found the love of his life, just as Elizabeth is looking at him flushed and spent and smiling in her daze. "Hmm. Gotta tie you up, yeah?"

She wipes her hand clumsily on the dishrag and then finds the twine in a drawer. She wraps it around the neckbone and then tucks the wings under him, pulling the twine tightly to secure them with a knot.

Barely recovering from his climax, Meliodas is limp in her hands, and very delighted to find that she is much into BDSM as she crosses his legs to tie them together expertly. All tied up, he allows his flesh to relax against the restraints, finding that they are deliciously binding him as he waits for her next treat, now dedicated to her body and soul.

Sir Ban has also said that the cooking part was delicate, especially when it came to managing the turkey's temperature. So, Elizabeth fetched a long thermometer that would stick inside him to make sure that she had the correct measurement. In a long stroke, she entered his core again and pushed it all the way in, making his limbs strain harder and the flesh bulge deliciously thick and full against the twine.

Meliodas is sure that he can't get any more full than this, his insides hugging the warm remnants of her passion, but a final, decisive push of her hand sets the thermometer all the way through his body with the thicker end sticking out just beyond his core.

Now, he is ready for a long bath of relaxing warmth in the oven. Elizabeth checks on him from time to time, noting the temperature before shoving the plug inside his body again to keep him nicely stretched and stuffed.

When he is roasted from so much love and pleasure, she pulls him out and presents him all slick and juicy to her friends. Sir Ban congratulates her on how excellently she had made this turkey for them.

"Bon appétit!"


End file.
